The Darkest Moment
by GorimJr
Summary: Something's coming. Something big and dark enough to push Morganians and Merlinians together. And it's buried underneath New York itself. First Sorcerer's Apprentice fanfic; reviews remind me to post.
1. Chapter 1

"The thing about magic, David," Veronica said gently. "Is that it is as much an art as a science. You can know every technicality in the book, but it is always those who think creatively that live another day."

Dave decided he was downright elated to have Veronica on the team, and thought she should stay on full time.

They sat in the center of the circle together in Dave's improvised physics lab/magic training ground, the lines and sigils glowing a faint gold. The only other light came from a candle off to the side, where Balthazar was peering over old books, and the thousands upon thousands of miniscule werelights that drifted lazily above them. It was like a sky full of stars. Veronica moved her hand idly, and the lights moved, so tiny and delicate that even the slightest shift in the air currents of the cavern made them change course.

Much more calming than Balthazar's earlier lesson, which had involved lobbing fireballs at the college student with alarming speed. The idea then had been to create vacuums faster, since it was no big thing to make fire, but creating vacuums took time. Time, Balthazar said grimly, that a sorcerer often did not have.

"If you're even a moment off time, you die." He'd said, arms crossed and feet shoulder width apart. "Do you want to die, Dave?"

"Not particularly…" The young man had answered, dreading the line of thought his teacher was following.

"Great. Then let's begin."

It was during that lesson that Dave had first realized how truly invaluable Veronica was. She'd been out getting coffee when the lesson had started, and when she'd returned… Well, Dave would have rather had water than coffee.

"Balthazar!" She'd gasped, nearly dropping the drinks. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

The man (damn him) had looked up casually, his hand still faintly smoking from the volley he'd launched at his poor protégé.

"Teaching." He'd said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dave had collapsed and rolled on the ground, praying that the zipper of his jacket hadn't melted together.

"By assaulting your student?" She'd asked pointedly. Dave could have kissed her. On the cheek, obviously. Balthazar had had the gall to look offended.

"Learning on the job is the best way to learn, Veronica." The sorcerer had replied, again, as if it was painfully obvious. "This as is close to that as it gets. Unless you'd rather I hunt some Morganians with him and throw him in?"

"No." Dave had groaned, pawing at his jacket. "No, that's fine. Not necessary." The jacket had been officially made useless. It had been a great jacket…

"Have you taught him werelights?" Veronica had asked, putting the drinks on the table and her hands on her hips. _That_ had tripped the old bastard up.

"Werelights?"

"Yes, Balthazar. Werelights."

Dave hadn't bothered getting up. In fact, he'd sat back and watched as his tough-as-a-tree-root master abruptly looked about as dangerous as a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"I… Umm…" Balthazar hadn't been able to meet Veronica's eyes. "No. No, I haven't taught him that yet."

"You haven't taught him werelights," she'd said, sounding affectionately exasperated. "But you think it's necessary to throw fireballs at him?"

"He needs to learn how to create a vacuum!" Balthazar had protested. "How many times was I burned before I learned how to make them quickly? How many times had Horva-" He'd stopped, closing his jaws with a snap. It had been several months, but the subject of their former fellow apprentice was still a sore one. Veronica, however, pressed on.

"And how many times would any one of us have fallen to our deaths without a werelight?" She'd asked pointedly. Balthazar said nothing. "All I'm saying is that we're at peace for now. Surely there are other things that David can learn?"

"Fine," he'd snapped, clearly offended. "If you want to teach him, teach him!" And he'd stomped off, allowing Veronica to sigh and roll her eyes and begin her lesson on werelights.

He'd come back after she and Dave had created their room full of werelights, arms full of old documents of a mysterious origin. He'd eyed the lights in the air irritably before lighting a candle and sitting down with a huff. It had taken every scrap of self-control Dave possessed not to snicker.

"Creativity is key," Veronica continued, Dave listening raptly. "In a duel, a sorcerer can know every old trick, but a new trick is sure to work to their advantage. Of course, magic is not all fireballs and lightning bolts, as the werelights will attest."

"How far can magic go?" Dave asked, feeling a bit he had in his first day of physics class: eager, ready for anything. It made him a bit sheepish to think that he'd never reacted to Balthazar's lessons this way, but could the man really blame him?

"Theoretically? As far as one wishes it to." Veronica said. "However, certain people have certain… talents. Certain proclivities."

"Like Balthazar's proclivity for pyrotechnics?" Dave asked good-naturedly. From his little corner, Balthazar grumbled something about nightlights and ungrateful apprentices. The young student chuckled and flicked a few werelights over to his grizzled friend. The sorcerer swatted them away like flies.

"Now boys," Veronica sighed. She looked at Dave pointedly. "Yes, Balthazar does have a predisposition for destruction-"

"Oh, thank you!" Balthazar called ironically.

"But because of this, and the fact that he uses those types of spells often, he'll be more powerful and creative in that regard. I doubt you'd have an easy time fighting him with brute force, Prime Merlinian or not."

"Especially if you can't make a vacuum quickly!" The older man said loudly and pointedly. Dave rolled his eyes and rolled his hand in a circular motion, making little tornados of wind that tossed around Balthazar's papers playfully. Veronica shook her head and snapped her fingers. The papers jumped back onto the table meekly. Dave grinned, impressed. 

"Is there a spell that does that with socks?" He asked, totally sincere. Veronica laughed.

"If there isn't, you could probably make one. That's the thing. Don't ever for a second believe that you're obligated to take the paths created for you." Dave nodded thoughtfully.

"Could you-" He was interrupted by his watch, which beeped piercingly. "Oh crap. Sorry, I have to go." He jumped up, held out his hand for Veronica, and ran for the door. "Thanks so much for the lesson, Veronica! Good luck with… Whatever it is that you're doing, Balthazar! See you tomorrow!" The door slammed behind him, leaving two very confused people in its wake.

"What on earth was that?" Veronica asked. Balthazar thought about it, then shrugged.

"Want to go see?"

"You mean follow him?" Veronica gasped, feigning shock. The man grinned as he stood. "You're a wicked man, Balthazar. What sort of master would stalk his own student?"

"Merlin did that," he pointed out. "Twice. Remember?"

"I do…" She said nostalgically. "You were on edge for weeks afterwards. Kept looking over your shoulder, sure someone was following you." She shook her head, giggling. "We should have told you it was us before you killed that squirrel, but it was just so funny." Balthazar sighed and started for the door.

"Well, come on, love. Let's go find that wayward ward of ours."

"Say that again," Veronica said quietly, going over to him and touching his sleeve. Balthazar turned to her, surprised.

"Say what?"

"'Love'. It's a nice word and you don't use it often." She wasn't angry or anything, it seemed. Just thoughtful. Balthazar smiled slightly, gripping her hand in his.

"Whatever you say, love." He turned and looked around, the smile disappearing. "Where on earth is my coat?" Veronica laughed lightly.

"Your coat?"

"Yes, my coat!" He looked under the table, his hand still holding hers. "I take it off for one minute and it's just gone." He straightened and looked at her. "My hat disappeared too."

"It has to be here somewhere," Veronica said reasonably. "But if we want to stalk our apprentice, we have to look later." Balthazar sighed and nodded, grumbling under his breath as they left the cavern, the little werelights floating in the air before winking out, one by one.

"You're an ass," Becky said fondly. "A complete, utter ass."

Halloween night was well underway, and the NYU Halloween Party was in full swing. Robin Hoods, nurses, cowboys, cowgirls, and various other, more creatively dressed people danced and drank and made merry.

"Dude," Bennet cried, waddling up in… something. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I was about to ask the same thing." Dave said slowly as Becky took a drink of her fruit punch. "Are you… doody?" Becky snorted and coughed, putting down the cup and leaning against Dave to regain the ability to breathe. Bennet looked offended.

"No!" He crossed his arms… or tried to, which only made Becky crack up more. "Here, here, I'll help you out. I'm a potato, which is a spud." He looked at Dave to see if he was following. Dave nodded. "And I have antennae." He tapped the ridiculous headpiece. "So I'm….?"

Dave looked at Becky, clearly trying not to laugh. "Space doody?" He asked, and the two collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"SPUTNIK!" Bennet wailed. "I'm _Sputnik! _Spudnik, Sputnik- Oh, forget it!" He "stomped" off, antennae waving, as Dave and Becky tried desperately to get some composure.

"You look nice." Dave wheezed, grinning. "Well, better than nice, of course."

"Thanks," Becky giggled, brushing the skirt of the princess gown with her hands. "And you look… gritty." Dave straightened and tapped the brim of his hat.

"Most terrifying man in New York," he said, a small smile ruining the otherwise very serious effect. "Balthazar Blake, at your service, ma'am."

"He's been looking everywhere for that hat," his girlfriend replied wonderingly. "He's going to kill you for stealing his clothes."

"Oh, no he's not." Dave replied easily, sipping his punch. "He's too emotionally invested in me. We're practically brothers- Hell." He gestured to the clothes with a wry grin. "We're practically twins." Becky laughed. As she did so, Dave glanced around, looking for other friends or maybe Balthazar pushing through the crowd, irate at the sight of his hat on Dave's head. As he looked around, his eyes passed briefly over a bowler hat…

_No…_

Dave froze. He'd picked up that hat after he defeated Morgana. Its owner had disappeared. Somewhere along the line, the hat had disappeared as thoroughly as its owner.

There they were.

Horvath leaned idly against the wall across the room from Dave, twirling his walking stick. When Dave noticed him, he smiled, brought his walking stick down with a solid thud, and quirked a finger, clearly beckoning him.

The wrong thing to do, the stupid thing to do, would be to go over there with no back up. So…

"Becky," Dave said, his tone hiding the tension in his body remarkably well. "Don't look around, but Horvath is hanging out across the room." Becky froze, and he could tell it was taking all of her self-control not to whirl around to look. "So go find Balthazar and Veronica while I go over there and see what's going on. They're probably back at the lab."

"Dave-" She started.

"If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it already. He doesn't care about collateral damage." This clearly wasn't helping. He grinned. "Don't worry. I'm the Prime Merlinian. I took care of Morgana le Fay; you think Horvath's gonna be able to do anything?" Becky didn't seem convinced. "The quicker you are, the quicker I have back up." Becky hesitated, nodded, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and hurried off.

And with a terrifying sense of déjà vu, Dave made his way across the room to the man who tried to kill him. Twice. At least.


	2. Chapter 2

"David," Horvath said pseudo-warmly. "Nice hat."

"Thanks…" Dave muttered, resisting the urge to fiddle with the hat. Behind and around them, people continued to chatter and dance and get tipsy. No one noticed the two oddly dressed men talking with one another by the door. In fact, this was probably the only day of the year were two oddly dressed men could talk with one another by the door. "So… any particular reason you've pushed yourself out of the woodwork?"

"Oh yes," Horvath replied easily. "A very good, very important reason. I'm surprised you decided to face me alone. How are you to know I'm not about to kill you? It's not as if I haven't tried, after all?"

"If you wanted to kill me, you would have." Dave said, crossing his arms to hide the fact that he was shaking. "It's not as if you've cared about collateral damage before. And even if you were trying to kidnap me or something, you could have attacked and knocked me out." Horvath nodded.

"Thought out well enough, I suppose. Tell me though… Is Balthazar here?"

"No, he's not." Dave answered, feeling his heartbeat jump at the admission. Horvath nodded again with a smile.

"Excellent. No doubt he will be soon, of course, which is fine. But don't take me for a fool, David. I saw your lady's face when she left." Dave swallowed. "Unless your relationship has taken a decidedly nasty turn in the last few months…"

"Of course not!" Dave snapped. The portly villain nodded.

"Excellent. I thought not. Well then, young man. Let us talk outside."

"Why outside?" The younger man asked tensely. The sorcerer chuckled.

"Because, young man, I would rather discuss the future of our world without someone running into me and getting… liquor on my shoes." His lip curled disdainfully. "I'm sure it will take no great leap of intellect for Balthazar to find you when he gets here." Without another word, Horvath went outside, Dave following with some hesitation.

The party hadn't overflowed to the lawn yet, so it was relatively quiet and refreshingly cool. The moon covered the grass with a pale, dim light, and the enormous tree in the center of the yard sent thin, almost lacy shadows across the ground. A man leaned against the trunk of the tree, the sharp light of a cigarette piercing through the dimness. A smaller figure in pilgrim clothing stood nearby.

"David, you remember Drake? And I don't think you've met Abigail?" Horvath said cheerfully. Drake Stone nodded drily.

"Cheers, mate," he muttered. "Nice hat." He breathed out a plume of cigarette smoke as Abigail smiled.

"So this is the Prime Merlinian?" She asked, her voice eerily young. "Taller than I expected. And so well-dressed." Dave was getting the distinct impression that they were making fun of him.

"David, don't be rude." Horvath chided. "Say hello." Dave cleared his throat.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said awkwardly. A beat. "I'd just like to point out that I didn't actually kill either of you."

"Oh, now now, David." Horvath said sharply. "Don't bring up that old, awful business."

"Horvath is right," Abigail said sweetly, clasping her hands in what seemed to Dave like a rather forced show of sweetness and innocence. "No hard feelings. There are more important things than grudges." She paused. "Which is what we're here to talk to you abou-"

"How are you two even alive?" Dave asked. "Horvath-"

"Dave." Horvath said dangerously. Dave decided to shut up.

"When you beat Morgana, our magic and life force came back." Drake said, putting out his cigarette on the tree trunk. "No big deal." Dave raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay, it hurt like hell. But we're all better now." He smirked "See?" He flicked his wrist, and a heavy wave of energy crashed like tidal wave into the shield Dave barely managed to bring up in time. As the makings of a plasma bolt flickered around Dave's fingertips, Horvath sighed and slammed the end of his walking stick to the ground. Twin waves of dirt crashed down on Dave and Drake, pinning them. Abigail stood by passively, smirking.

"Both of you, knock it off." Horvath snapped. Dave struggled to breathe as the earth settled on his back and trickled up to hold down his arms. "Drake, that was rude."

"Sorry." The professional magician croaked. "My bad."

"Now," Horvath continued smoothly. "Until you both prove you can behave like reasonable adults, I'm afraid we'll have to continue this discussion this way-"

"_Horvath!"_ Dave looked up to see Balthazar, Veronica and Becky running up.

"Goodness…" Horvath muttered. "That was fast."

"We were on our way," Balthazar said coldly. He glanced down at Dave. "Is that my hat?"

"It's a very nice hat," Dave managed to gasp. "Didn't even fall off when this wave of dirt came along and tried to kill me."

"Oh. The dirt isn't going to kill you, David." Horvath said irritably.

"I'd like to disagree there, Horvath," Drake wheezed. "This is a bit heavy."

"That's _my_ hat!" Balthazar snapped, refusing to be taken off course. "I bought that hat from an Irish immigrant in the 1800s!"

"Oh, you bought it at a pawnshop in the seventies!" Horvath said angrily. As Dave tried rather hard to breathe, the two former best friends glared across the lawn at each other, and things were clearly about to get messy. Flame was starting to snake about Balthazar's fingers, and while the only visible indication of anger on Horvath's part was his grip tightening on his cane, the dirt shifted and pressed down on Dave and started to pool around his face. Dave got the terrifying suspicion that he was about to be buried alive and struggled desperately. He tried to fling the dirt off of himself, but his mind refused to clear as the earth that had originally only pressed as far up as his shoulders began to press on his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Drake flailing about in a similar fashion. He heard Becky shriek…

"Balthazar!" Veronica said finally, her face white. "Maxim! _Please_ stop this!" The dirt faltered in its determined quest to bury him. Dave looked up at Horvath. The man had an odd, unreadable expression on his face as he looked from Veronica to Balthazar to the two half-buried apprentices. He sighed and lowered his cane. The dirt receded, allowing Dave to struggle to his knees and _breathe._ His heart wasn't going to stop doing gymnastics for a while though…

"You took my coat too?" Balthazar said, but his tone was markedly gentler as he helped Dave to his feet and beat the dirt off of him as if the younger man was a rug. Dave shrugged out of the leather duster and gave it back, his eyes never leaving Horvath. "My hat," the older man muttered as he snatched the thing off of Dave's head. Becky rushed over.

"Are you alright?" She asked, and he nodded mechanically, a motion that was somewhat difficult to stop.

"Now that that's settled," Horvath said, clearly trying to regain some measure of control over himself and the situation. "We need to talk. It's good that you to are here-"

"There's nothing to talk about." Balthazar snapped, gripping Dave's arm and half-dragging him and Becky back towards the party. "Get out of here, Horvath. I'm not going to tell you twice."

"As terrifying as that sounds," the Morganian snarled. "We do, in fact, have something to discuss."

"Balthazar-" Veronica started, but Balthazar talked over her in his anger.

"Such as?" He challenged.

Horvath glanced back at his fellow Morganians, and then said in a surprisingly quiet voice, "The Cauldron of Ceridwen."

Balthazar and Veronica froze. The grip on Dave's arm tightened to the point of pain before releasing him, and Balthazar turned.

"What about the Cauldron?" He asked, and Dave was mildly horrified to detect an undercurrent of carefully controlled fear in Balthazar's voice. Horvath nodded, satisfied that he'd caught his contemporary's attention.

"We need somewhere safe and quiet to talk. This isn't a discussion for an open field." Dave found himself sharing a confused look with Drake and Abigail, neither of whom seemed to have a clue what was going on, which was… strange.

"Mr. Horvath," Abigail said slowly. "You said nothing of a Cauldron-"

"I will, dear, when we have somewhere more suitable to discuss it." Horvath snapped. He glanced up at the sky, then down at the ground. "Perhaps it's just superstition-"

"No, it's not." Balthazar said. "You're right. We need to go somewhere else."

"My lab?" Dave supplied. He still wasn't sure what was going on, but if Balthazar was willing to talk to Horvath, it was big and required secrecy without doubt. Balthazar looked at him like he was an idiot. "What? It's not like they don't know where it is."

"Point." Balthazar admitted after some hesitation. "Fine. Dave's lab. You recall where it is?"

"Of course," Horvath snorted. "I haven't survived this long by forgetting things like that."

(*)(*)(*)

Ten minutes later, they were settled around the training circle in Dave's lab, Abigail peering at both the circle and the lab with a certain amount of awe.

"We had a meadow in the forest," she explained. "Nothing like this. And no circle either."

Had any of Dave's professors (or, perhaps, Bennet) walked in, they would have found a very odd scene. A little girl dressed as a pilgrim, a celebrity magician that'd been missing for several months, a drop-dead gorgeous woman in a sundress, a scraggly man of average height and build in clothing that seemed outdated, a gangly college student dressed identically to the scraggly man, an impeccably dressed gentleman, and another college student dressed as a Renaissance princess, all sitting around a decidedly arcane circle in a secret lab that few people knew about. On Halloween.

It would definitely raise some eyebrows.

"So, Horvath," Drake said loudly, killing the silence before it grew. "What's this Cauldron? Never said anything about a Cauldron." Horvath stood and strode easily into the circle, causing the edges to burst into green flame. Becky jumped and squeaked, gripping Dave's arm on reflex before straightening awkwardly. Horvath stared at her.

"What are you even doing here?" He asked, though the tone made one wonder whether he expected to be answered. After a moment, he sighed and continued, "Someone other than Balthazar and Veronica tell me that they know what the Cauldron of Ceridwen is?" Dave hesitated, then decided to just go for it.

"Well, Ceridwen is the Celtic goddess of rebirth," he said. The older people in the room stared at him. "R-right?"

"Yes, that's right." Horvath said, sounding almost insultingly impressed. "Ceridwen is the goddess of rebirth, among other things. Her Cauldron was said to create life or, perhaps, grant youth and life to those who no longer had it." He smiled dreamily, a decidedly odd expression on his face. "El Aqua de Vide. The Water of Life. The Cauldron is the beginning of the rumors of the Fountain of Youth. King Arthur himself sailed across the sea on the Prydwen to find its resting place, the fabled Caer Sidi."

"Wasn't he looking for the Grail?" Drake asked skeptically. At Horvath's surprised look, he shrugged again, this time more sheepishly. "Monty Python."

"Of course," Horvath sneered. "Yes, Arthur is said to have searched for the Holy Grail, but he searched for the Cauldron after the Grail was lost."

"Were you there?" Becky asked curiously. The three former apprentices shared looks.

"The three of us were alive when His Majesty sailed for Caer Sidi," Veronica said slowly. "But only one of us went with him on the Prydwen. Merlin suggested that King Arthur take Balthazar with him so that Merlin could remain as an advisor to the King's wife, Queen Guinevere, who ruled while he was away."

"Why is this important?" Dave asked. "I mean, it's great to hear more about the ye olden days, but-"

"I'm getting there." Horvath said coldly. For the second time that night, Dave decided to shut up. "A legion was sent across the sea with King Arthur to find the Cauldron. Seven returned, the king and Balthazar among them. What they told the courtiers was that seeking out the Cauldron was a fool's errand. What they told Merlin…" He glanced at Balthazar.

"The Cauldron is real," Balthazar said. "If I recall correctly, it'd be around here, quite possibly under New York right now. It was in a cavern, and the natives of the place were definitely Native American."

"So, what was the problem?" Becky asked. "It wasn't a fountain of youth?"

"Far from it," Balthazar said darkly. "The natives tried to warn us, in retrospect. The Cauldron is cursed. Back then, it would send out pulses every seven years and bring back the dead, and not in a good way. In a zombie apocalypse sort of way. We had to get down to the Cauldron and seal it away."

"That's what happened to all the people?" Abigail asked. "They died fighting their way down to the Cauldron?" Balthazar nodded sadly.

"Good men all. And many died sailing there as well."

"So you sealed away the Cauldron?" Dave asked, awed. "All by yourself? I mean, that must have needed magic and you were the only sorcerer." Horvath and Veronica both nodded, but Balthazar looked uncomfortable.

"There… was another sorcerer there, as it turned out." He said. Horvath and Veronica both looked startled at this.

"You never mentioned a second sorcerer to Merlin!" Horvath said sharply. "Who?" Balthazar looked uncomfortable.

"A Morganian," he admitted. "A man named Will. He was sent by Morgana to search for the Cauldron. I didn't know until he'd saved my life times over, and when you're several miles underground, being attacked on all sides by corpses and skeletons, you're not about to be picky about who has your back."

"Why didn't you tell Merlin?" Veronica asked breathlessly. Balthazar, for all his flashy magic and tendency for impatient leadership, seemed to be growing more and more self-conscious under the stunned gaze of every person in the room.

"He made me promise. I owed him." Balthazar muttered. Veronica shook her head. Horvath stared at Balthazar, as if his opinion on the man was shifting, though whether it was for good or ill, Dave couldn't tell.

"Okay…" Drake said abruptly. "So a Merlinian and a Morganian walk into a big dungeon- I'm assuming it's a dungeon; it's always a dungeon- filled with bad things due to a bad medieval cooking implement. And they seal it together so the aforementioned bad cooking implement doesn't do bad things on the surface?" He looked at Balthazar. "Sound about right, mate?"

The older sorcerer stared at the magician with thinly veiled distaste. "Dave," he said quietly. "Have I ever mentioned how grateful I am that you're the Prime Merlinian and my apprentice?"

"No." Dave replied, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Well, I am."

"Can we please focus?" Horvath asked irritably. "I feel as though I'm working with a group of children. No offense intended, Abigail."

"None taken," she replied easily, rolling her eyes. Drake huffed and crossed his arms, refusing to look at any of them. "But seriously. So you and this Morganian sealed away the Cauldron?"

"Yes. The seals were supposed to last a very long time. A millennia at least," Balthazar said, getting up and going over to his desk to rifle through papers. "I was actually thinking about it recently, so I was trying to figure out where it was. We drew maps, of course, but it was Arthurian measurements; not exactly comparable to anything today…" He trailed off. "I need a map of all of New York City and its surrounding lands. Dave?" He looked at the young man expectantly.

"What, right now?" Dave groaned. Balthazar scowled. "Alright, alright…" He got up and stretched. "I guess this is the precursor to a daring quest into a deep and indescribably dangerous cavern full of undead and various other magical things who want to kill us? Yes? No? Yes. Awesome. I'll call my teachers and tell them my grandmother died." As he headed for the door, Drake got up and followed him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Balthazar demanded. Drake smirked at him.

"Feeling a wee bit protective, are we?" He asked. "I'm going with him. Better to go out in twos, and I want to get to know the ever-so-magical Prime Merlinian." He turned to Becky and winked. "You coming too, gorgeous?"

"She's with me." Dave called waspishly. Drake snorted in disbelief.

"Really? I've clearly underestimated you." He stuck his hands in his pockets and headed for the door. "Come on, Davey. Let's go get a drink."

**Originally had a totally different, far more action-y ending, but then I decided I wanted Dave and Drake to try and be Vitriolic Buds and get a drink together. Guys, you're supposed to be getting maps, not getting drunk.**

**EDIT: Fail. It's not Caer Sidhe, it's Caer Sidi. Sidhe are part of Scottish and Irish mythology, similar to elves or fae. Caer Sidi is the fortress of the Otherworld. **


	3. Chapter 3

Dave didn't drink, as a rule. He'd spent his high school career working for scholarships and the first two years of his college career doing the same. After meeting Balthazar, there was one incident involving alcohol. He and Becky had gotten into an argument over something stupid and he'd gone to a bar to stereotypically drown his sorrows. He woken up in a trashed secret lab (papers everywhere, burn marks, even some minor water damage) with a massive headache and an irate Balthazar yelling at him, totally unsympathetic to the fact that his apprentice's head felt like it was about to crack open. Balthazar literally made Dave take a blood oath not to drink ever again, and Dave, still recovering from the massive hangover, agreed without looking back.

The fact that Balthazar had taken immense pleasure in making Dave throw up by referencing greasy food did _not_ help. Not even Veronica was willing to help Dave that day.

So Dave got a Coke while Drake drank some weird European beer that Dave hadn't even realized existed before that night. It hadn't been overly difficult to find some maps; most stores were still open for trick-or-treaters and every block on that side of the city had a tourist stand of some kind. And a bar was no different. The one they were in currently was hosting some sort of Halloween speed dating thing that they only barely managed to bow out of. The woman that tried to recruit them probably thought they were gay, and Drake didn't help matters by slinging an arm around Dave's shoulders, but as long as the young apprentice wasn't being forced to talk to talk to scantily clad women while praying Becky didn't walk through the front door, he didn't care.

"So," Drake said abruptly. "No hard feelings about the whole Rising thing last year, yeah?" Dave thought back. Technically, Drake hadn't really done anything to Dave directly. He'd accosted him in the men's room (dear god, may Dave never think of it that way again), but even that had dissolved into a harmless and almost cordial discussion. It was only after Horvath came in (_goddammit_) did it truly get dangerous.

"Sure," he said reluctantly. "No hard feelings." Drake beamed and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "I have a question for you, Stone-"

"Oh, please, mate," the magician said briskly. "Call me Drake." Dave shrugged. _Why not?_

"I have a question for you… Drake."

"Ask away." They both took a drink of their respective beverage before Dave continued.

"Why are you helping us? I mean, seems like the Cauldron is something you guys would want to control."

"Oh, definitely." Drake said with a sage nod. "But as far as I can tell, it can't be controlled. I mean, if it could, that bloke Will or whatever would have told Morgana, right? Or we'd be down there right now with Horvath while you lot were up here, none the wiser." Dave nodded slowly. "So it must not be controllable."

"Or," Dave replied. "Horvath's just using the three of us so that it's easier to get to the Cauldron, all while not telling you or Abigail so that it's more convincing." Drake considered that.

"Maybe." He admitted. "But wouldn't Balthazar know if it could be controlled?" Dave nodded slowly, taking another drink as he did so.

"Maybe." He admitted. The two shrugged in tandem.

"I guess we'll see when we get down there," Drake said amicably. "Watch out for Abigail, if it comes down to that. She's a bit of a biter." As Dave tried to figure out what that could possibly mean in terms of fighting, Drake continued, "So, who's that pretty blonde that was with you earlier?" Dave glanced at the other man.

"Becky. She's my girlfriend," he said neutrally. Drake snorted, shaking his head in amazement.

"And how," he asked. "Does a guy like you get a girl like that?" Dave stiffened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked. Drake shrugged, ignoring Dave's offended tone.

"She's a hotter, blonde Kristen Stewart. With emotions. And you're…" He gestured vaguely. "Hiccup."

"Hiccup?" Dave asked, confused and unsure of whether he should be more or less offended.

"Yeah, you know. Hiccup. That skinny mate from How to Train Your Dragon." He sipped his alcohol. "The one everyone picked on because he was smart and weird and… socially awkward."

"The one who saved everyone and got the hot Viking girl in the end?" Dave asked, trying to retain some measure of dignity. Drake cackled.

"Yeah, that one." He drained the last of his beer as Dave checked the time.

"Well, it's been about a hour since we left, and Balthazar's probably ripping his hair out right now. We should get going." Drake groaned like a child but obliged, and the two left the bar and stepped back out into the October night.

It had probably gotten twenty degrees colder in the half hour they'd spent in the bar, and a thick, soupy fog had rolled in. Dave could actually see his breath, and became very grateful that the lab was just a block away. His current jacket was wholly useless.

"Bloody hell…" Drake muttered, jumping up and down slightly. "Is it just me, or were we in there until Christmas?" Dave snorted.

"Probably feels that way to Balthazar and Horvath. Come on; the faster we get back, the faster we're out of the cold." As they hurried down the street along a park decorated with scarecrows and toilet paper, dodging drunken zombies and obnoxious witches, Dave realized something.

"How did you guys know the Cauldron was waking up?" He asked. "Balthazar and Veronica never mentioned anything." Drake shrugged.

"Well, Abigail said she sort of… _felt_ it. Like a heartbeat under her feet."

"Creepy." Dave said simply, and Drake nodded.

"I, on the other hand, learned in a much more straightforward fashion." Dave looked at the taller man questioningly. "Well, see, it's a funny story. I had just left my agent's office after announcing that I was just on vacation and not actually dead or anything. Totally ready to get back on the road, you know? And Horvath and Abigail show up and start saying how play time's over and there are more important things to do and blah blah blah." He made a hand motion like a chattering mouth. "So they drag me outside and all of a sudden-"

He was cut off suddenly by a shriek of sheer terror, one that decidedly not caused by teens jumping out of the bushes.

A group of witches and nurses were running as fast as their high heels could carry them as _hands_ reached out of the ground. Following the hands came arms, then heads and shoulders, followed by the rest of the bodies. Or at least, what was left of the bodies.

Zombies. Honest to god zombies were clawing their way out of the ground, all in varying degrees of decomposition, all armed and armored like knights or natives. Some seemed almost preserved, like mummies. Others were straight skeletons, their jaws wagging loosely as they chased down the fleeing girls.

One of the nurses' heels snapped, and she went tumbling onto the ground, sobbing with fear. One of the skeletons raised its sword, ready to do its absolute best to cleave the poor woman in half…

When a semi-solid, glowing mass of plasma crashed into it and shattered whatever was holding the bones together. The nurses' friends grabbed her arms and dragged her away as Dave, unnoticed by many in the panic, readied another plasma bolt.

"And all of a sudden that happened?" He asked shakily, eyeing the ever-growing hoard nervously.

"And all of a sudden," Drake intoned solemnly. "That happened."

(*)(*)(*)

"So, what are you dragging my boyfriend into, exactly?" Becky asked Balthazar. The man looked up from his maps and notes.

"Excuse me?" He asked, a bit irritable at having his train of thought interrupted. Becky ignored the tone.

"What are you dragging my boyfriend into?" She repeated firmly. Balthazar straightened, offended.

"I'm not 'dragging' him into anything," he said. "He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want-"

"Oh, don't do that!" Becky snapped. "Don't act like he doesn't have to go. Of course he has to go. You and Veronica are going down there with a group of people who tried to kill us all and take over the world. He wouldn't let you go by yourself and you know it!" Balthazar scowled.

The five of them remained in Dave's lab, doing various things to occupy themselves until Dave and Drake returned. Abigail wandered about the place, glancing through physics papers with interest and walking around the edge of the circle as if it was a tightrope. Horvath appeared to nap (not that anyone really thought he was actually napping), Veronica helped Balthazar go through old notes and journals, and Becky paced. And thought. And steadily got rather angry.

"Rebecca," Balthazar said quietly. "Now isn't really the best time-"

"No, tell the girl, Balthazar," Horvath said suddenly, not even opening his eyes. "It's her man, after all. She deserves to know." Balthazar gave his former best friend a look of undisguised loathing.

"Fine." He snarled. He turned back to his papers and smoothed out a map. Becky peered over his shoulder. It appeared to detail some sort of labyrinthine building; the halls and room placement seemed to have no rhyme or reason, not that she knew much on the subject of building planning.

"The Cauldron is below ground," Balthazar began. "In an abandoned temple."

"A temple to Ceridwen?" Becky asked.

"Honestly? No, I don't think so. Ceridwen is a Celtic goddess; why would anyone in America worship her? And why in a temple underground? No, I think it was simply… chance." He tried to think of a better way to describe it; he'd been around long enough to know that "chance" and "coincidence" were myths. "We got there, it fit our description, so we called it that. But that doesn't mean it was literally the Cauldron." He frowned. "In fact, I don't think it was connected to anything we were looking for. Back then, we'd been in many old temples, honorable and profane, and they never felt quite like that."

"What do you mean?" Becky whispered. Balthazar shook his head.

"Hard to explain. In places were magic has been, sorcerers can get a sense of the type of magic that's been used. It's hard to describe; be like trying to describe foreboding or déjà vu. But you can tell if the place was one of… for lack of better description, Morganian or Merlinian intent." He shook his head. "The place that guarded the Cauldron was… beyond Morganian. And it was _alive_, in its way. The deeper we got, the stronger we felt that we would never see the light of day again…" There was a silence as those in the lab absorbed that statement. Becky noticed her hands were trembling as she imagined Dave, goofy, brilliant, sweet Dave, dying in the dark below the surface of the earth. Balthazar seemed to notice the effect of his speech, for he spoke more warmly. "But we did see the light of day again, didn't we?"

"Those who survived." Abigail said quietly. Balthazar placed a hand on Becky's shoulder, ignoring the young witch determinedly.

"Don't worry," he assured her. "Dave will come back. I'll make sure of it." Becky smiled gratefully, trying to banish the images the map created from her mind.

"And I'll be there to make sure _he_ comes back." Veronica piped up. "And then we'll have Horvath, Abigail, Drake… Don't worry about us, dear."

Before anyone could respond, the door slammed open and Drake rushed in, gasping for air.

"What on earth are you doing?" Horvath demanded, standing.

Drake held up a finger, took another second to catch his breath, then gasped, "Zombies. Down the street. Too many. Dave said come get you. Hurry up." They needed no more encouragement.

(*)(*)(*)

The street was in chaos. A few brave souls tried to fight the undead soldiers off with bats, golf clubs, and play weaponry, but they were easily cut down. Bodies of costumed men and women -no children; Balthazar thanked the lucky stars most parents had them in bed at this point, or at least safely off the street- were strewn about like ragdolls, coating most of the asphalt and concrete with blood. Off in the distance, the sound of police sirens grew louder and louder. The air was thick with cold and fog, but about half a block away, the telltale snaps and crackles of energy pinpointed Dave's location.

The young man was pressed up against a wall, one hand flinging increasingly meager plasma bolts and the other pressed against his side. He looked dangerously close to loosing the ability to stand. The undead were closing in, their swords and axes slamming down on his shields, chipping away at his defenses and strength. As the group ran up, Balthazar flung fire into the center of the cluster attacking his apprentice, downing at least half of them. As the spells flew, Balthazar saw Becky grab one of the fallen swords and swing wildly, smashing into one of the skeletons and shattering it.

Balthazar felt absurdly proud.

As the pressure was taken off of Dave, he slid to the ground, looking terribly close to passing out. Using a large amount of magic in a short period of time was immensely exhausting for a sorcerer untrained in long-term battle magic, and Balthazar gritted his teeth in irritation and concern.

All around, spells were being flung. Drake and Horvath had fire; Veronica and Balthazar had plasma and waves of energy; Abigail called upon the roots of the nearby park. Becky, by contrast, kept a firm grip on her sword and did her best to keep the skeletons away from Dave. She wouldn't have lasted more than a moment in a battle with a trained knight, but in this situation, her hacking and slashing were sufficient.

Just as the police cars pulled up, Horvath shattered the last skeleton with a contemptuous swing of his cane. Veronica and Becky hurried over to Dave as the police leapt out of their car and gaped at the carnage. There was only two; one younger and thinner, the other older and stockier. Balthazar winced, unsure of how to explain it. From the looks on the two officers' faces, they'd probably figured it was just a bunch of drunken kids causing a ruckus. But there was no way to easily explain this much carnage.

"What in the name of God happened here?" The younger of them cried. Balthazar was still trying to figure out a decent explanation when something in the corner of his eye_ moved._

"Jesus H. Christ!" The elder hissed, pulling his gun. Balthazar and Horvath whirled to see a young college student dressed as a cigarette box heaved himself up, his hand reaching for one of the swords. Which would have been bad enough, had it not been for the fact that half the boy's head was caved in, his eyes dead and his gait oddly disjointed.

With a rather wild cry, the young policeman shot the zombie several times. As it fell limply to the ground, the rest of them began rise, dropping any sports equipment or plastic weaponry and picking up fallen swords or axes.

"Everybody run!" The older policeman snapped, beginning to shoot the zombies with a remarkably practiced hand. Balthazar felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Drake half carrying, half dragging a semi-conscious Dave with Abigail following, and Horvath jerking his head towards the lab.

"I think we should listen to the good peacekeeper," Horvath said pointedly. Balthazar eyed the horde that was slowly getting to their feet. The younger officer was frantically calling for backup, but his panicked haste would cause more delays. Soon, they'd run out of bullets. Soon, there'd be more carnage, more bodies, more zombies, and the cycle would presumably continue.

Balthazar glared at Horvath. "You want to run? Run. Take Dave and go. I'm staying." Horvath scowled and glanced at the situation.

"_Bog vraga__," _he snarled._ "Vi ćete biti__ smrt mene."_ He rolled his eyes at the blank look his Croatian mutterings got from Balthazar and turned to the others. "You lot get that idiot to the lab. Apparently, Balthazar wants to play the hero." As the group hurried back down the street, Balthazar smirked.

"And you can't help but do the same," he said sardonically.

**I'll try to update once every weekday, with weekends off. I don't know how long my plan will last, but reviews will inevitably prompt me to work. If I can't update once a week, I'll try to update once every two days.**

**Horvath is a Croatian name, so I thought, "Ooo, maybe Horvath is originally from Croatia and just lived in England long enough to pick up an accent. After all, the three apprentices of Merlin are clearly older than they look." But then I realized that it's more probable that the writers just thought Horvath sounded cool and evil. And it does. But by Odin, I put Croatian in my story and that's that. Note that the Croatian came from Google Translate, and thus is probably not grammatically correct.**


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